The Quiet Days
by SilasWhitfield
Summary: The war is over. Amon has been vanquished, revealed as a conniving charlatan and humiliated. Whatever dark hole he has fled to, he will not be venturing back any time soon. For a single, shining moment, peace reigns again in a battered Republic City, and all nations breathe a collective sigh of relief at the news. This gives Mako and Korra all the time in the world to think.
1. Chapter 1

The Quiet Days

(**A/N**: I am trying out something new here, inspired by those super annoying "sub for sub" channels on YouTube. It works like this: you give me a review; I pick out one of your fics and give you an appraisal the same length or longer. If that sounds like a good deal to you, feel free to take me up on it. As the Joker would say, "I'm a man of my worrrrd… YEAHAHAHAHA!")

* * *

The necklace slid through her fingers and gently down onto the cloth. She folded it over and tucked it into a corner of her bag. The rest of her belongings were in a larger pack on the floor.

It was not a whole lot, she realized. A few sets of clothes, a few pictures, and the necklace her mother had given to her on her last birthday. Her whole life packed into two bags, and somehow that didn't bother her in the least. It was strange, how she could only truly appreciate peace now, after she had known war. There was plenty of time now that the world as they knew it wasn't about to end tomorrow. There were loose ends, yes. Amon had disappeared, doubtless nursing a grudge, and there were other dangers sure to emerge, but for now her mind was at rest.

Well, not entirely.

If Mako had held a central place in her thoughts before, now she could hardly think of anything else. Her mind kept replaying those three little words over and over. "I love you". It had been some weeks ago, but the memory still caused an unearthly tingle to run up her spine. It felt as though a new chapter in her life had just begun, and nothing now could cause her more distress then the satisfaction she felt at knowing it.

She heard the door to the hut slide open, and she saw Katara, briefly framed against sun's reflection off the ice before she shut the portal against the chilly wind.

"Do you have everything?"

"Yes," Korra replied, "I think so."

Katara came and sat down beside her in silence for a time, both of them simply sharing the quiet moment, their last before Korra would travel to the docks and board a United Forces warship for Republic City. Mako had been keeping his ear out for news the whole time they had been here, and had informed her that the city was already eagerly anticipating her return, in particular those whose bending had been removed by Amon.

"You looked beautiful last night, in your mother's dress." Katara said.

"The chief didn't have to go to all that trouble."

"No, but he did. The water tribe has precious few moments to cherish these days, and you are one of them. I am very proud of you Korra."

"Thank you."

There was another long pause before Katara spoke again.

"He couldn't take his eyes off of you."

"Who?" Korra said, but part of her knew already.

"Mako. I recognize the look. It's the same one Aang gave me all those years ago, although I was too young to see it at first."

Korra blushed and looked down.

"I suppose everyone knows now."

Katara laughed deeply, a wonderful, joyous sound.

"How could they not? My dear Korra, it is abundantly obvious to anyone who has a single eyeball left in their head!"

Korra smiled, despite herself.

"But enough, I have tortured you long enough. Know that I am happy for you Korra. He is a fine young man."

"Yes. Yes he is." Korra said.

They both stood, and Katara embraced Korra.

"Stay safe, Korra, wherever your travels take you. And come back soon, the chief needs more excuses to party." She said, before leaving her alone with her luggage once more.

* * *

Mako had never seen a sunset quite like it. Down in this frigid hinterland the sun never really set or rose with any permanence, rather the light shifted direction and intensity, gradually waxing and waning throughout the "day". He liked being here, but he liked it mostly because Korra liked it. He would be glad when they got back to Republic City, and a normal sleep schedule. As it was his circadian rhythm was shot to hell, making him feel groggy most of the day.

He leaned against the railing of the command tower, watching the brilliant orange ball gleam off of the ships cannons, and off the ice floating around them like polished facets on a gem. In the city the evening sky was often blood red or pink from the haze of industrial smog, but here it was softer and yet stronger at the same time.

His eyes cast down at the gangplank, which Tenzin and his family were now attempting to coax a reluctant sky bison to ascend. Korra was standing a little ways back. Even from this distance, Mako could see the smile lighting up her features. She had been happier than he'd seen her in a long time since her bending had returned. The whole ordeal had caused Mako to have a newfound respect for his power, now that he knew how easily it could be taken away.

"Hey Mako, there's a telegraph coming in from General Iroh. It's for you."

Mako turned and followed the ships captain into the bridge, where a radio operator was frantically scribbling a message down. The dots and dashes ceased, and a short time later so did the operator's scribbling. He held up the piece of paper and read aloud.

_Message from Twisting Hammer, eyes-only, priority one, begin message, break._

_Situation continues to stabilize. Attitudes toward bending have been more relaxed, break._

_Equalist remnants still fighting an insurgent bombing campaign in some areas, break._

_Former councilman Tarlock has vanished without a trace. He was not in the attic when UFS forces retook the air bending temple, investigation ongoing; no leads so far, break._

_Streets are still clogged with rubble, cleanup is well underway but there are still many wounded to be tended to, not to mention bodies left unburied, break. _

_Hope this finds you well, and on your way back to help, would be major propaganda victory, break._

_End message._

The three of them stood silent a moment, all of them thinking about the lives that had been lost.

"What a waste," Mako said. "All that energy expended fighting over nothing."

"Well, I wouldn't say nothing. My sailors knew what they fought for. They fought for unity, and peace in our time."

"Still… things will never be the same. Not anywhere."

"That's true on any day of the week, Equalist revolution or no. I wager they're still out there, biding their time, but now that Amon's gone their backbone has been broken."

"He'll be back. As long as he still has a breath in his body he'll be back." Mako said.

He didn't know why he was being so pessimistic, but it felt like the right thing to say. They couldn't all sit back and bask in victory now. I didn't seem right, when so many hadn't made it.

"Maybe you're right, but as long as my men have breath in their bodies, they'll fight to defend our way of life." The captain said. "Speaking of which, you should give some thought to joining up."

"Me? In the service?" Mako asked, startled.

The old sailor laughed.

"Yeah you! If half the pro-bending reels are right you're a top notch fire bender, and if General Iroh is bothering to keep you personally in the loop, it means you're on his shortlist. You could make officer in your first week and admiral in your second."

"Thanks for the offer, I'll consider it." Mako replied, only half joking.

The captain flicked the small loop of gold braid on his shoulder with a devilish grin.

"You should. The ladies melt for a man in uniform."

Mako chuckled.

"I bet they do, but I have one lady in mind, and one lady only."

"Of course you do, you sly dog, which brings me to my last point-" the captain said, clapping Mako hard on the back. "There's a room that'll have a great view when we swing into port, and it's off the main hall so you and the avatar won't be disturbed by Tenzin or any other old fogeys like me. Second deck, last door on the right before you hit the boilers."

"Hey, thanks." Mako said, turning to leave. "That will come in handy. But don't you have your own men bunked up there?"

"No. It's just me, Clancy here, and the boiler attendants. We lost everyone else in the first attack on Republic City."

Mako stopped in the doorway a moment, struck by this statement.

"I- I'm sorry."

The captain shrugged, his genial demeanor bouncing back in leaps and bounds.

"Ah well, cost of doing business. Run along now lad, she's waiting for you, I reckon."

Another silence fell after the boy was gone, filled only with the sound of the water lapping at the hull. A great melancholy threatened to eat at the captain, a devouring darkness that he impatiently swatted away.

_They had known the risks, just as he did. It could just as easily have been him in the water, with all those exploding mines._

The radio operator watched stared at the empty doorway that Mako had just vacated. One eyebrow was cocked a full three inches higher than its compatriot.

"A little vicarious living sir?"

"Shut up, Clancy."

"Aye, Captain, shutting up."

* * *

Mako sat on top of the sheets of the bed with his head resting upright against the rough-spun pillows. He had kicked his shoes off, but otherwise he was still fully clothed, the eerie light from outside the porthole next to him playing off of his red scarf. He had heard Korra call them "Aurora Borealis" or something similar. The green and pink apparitions danced in the sky. From his angle they looked completely alone on a desert of water, not even a floating chunk of ice to break up the monotony of the water's surface. Just a tiny metal tub, cutting through the gentle chop. The stars provided a startlingly bright tapestry of dots behind it, each one gleaming down at them from on high.

His mood was contemplative, yet he felt deeply at peace now. He had avoided everyone else until they were underway and it was dark, not quite knowing why. The images of conflict, forever etched on his brain replayed themselves, but they couldn't hurt him now. The captain had been right. They shouldn't mourn the dead; they should thank the spirits that such men had lived in the first place.

Whether it was the setting, or his train of thought, or the slightly charged atmosphere that night, Mako's hands began to spark.

It was mostly involuntary, like a twitch. Little bands of forked lightning twisted briefly up his palm and onto his fingers before dissipating. Normally lightning bending required intense concentration, but at this moment it seemed to come of its own accord. He stuck out two fingers, and discharged the energy into the metal bulkhead.

"Playing with fire?"

He turned to see Korra staring at him from the oval doorway.

"You know I can't help myself." Mako replied.

"I've been looking for you all day, but you disappeared. Why did you pick this room?" She said, carefully stepping over the tall threshold.

Mako gestured to the double-wide porthole.

"Captain said it had a good view. He wasn't lying."

Korra hopped onto the bed and sprawled out next to him, stretching and yawning like some sort of jungle cat. They both stared up at the pipe and rivets that covered the ceiling.

"Tarlock is gone." Mako said, at length. "UFS infantry scoured the air temple, top to bottom. Nothing. The cell was empty."

Korra propped herself up on one elbow looking down at him with those ice blue eyes.

"That's a shame, but you know something? I'm not really worried."

"You're not?" Mako said.

"No. I'm not worried about Tarlock, or Tenzin, or even Noatak." She said, getting progressively closer with each name until he could feel her warm, sweet breath on his face.

"All I can think about right now is you."

"Likewise." Mako said, or would have said had Korra not kissed him fiercely.

He felt electrified, as though someone had just hooked him up to Republic City's power grid. The kiss went on and on and on. That was just fine with him. There was time now, at last, time for them. Time for each other. These were the quiet days.

* * *

Tenzin was woken by the sound of Rohan's squalling. The rest of the brood was thankfully bunked in other rooms, but if he had thought he was going to get some rest tonight, he was sorely mistaken.

"Could you-?" Pema began groggily.

"Of course dear, I'll take care of it, you get your sleep."

Tenzin swung his legs reluctantly out of bed, donned his night robe and picked Rohan up, nestling him in his arms and rocking him gently back and forth. The child quieted almost instantly, but Tenzin kept walking. Normally the back and forth roll of the ship as it crested each surge made him queasy, but tonight it felt like a calm, pendulous motion. He was where he liked to be, focused, in control of his environment.

He looked up as his feet scuffed the threshold to the boiler rooms, and he turned back towards the main hallway. Something made him stop, and look through the door to his left, however.

The light of the moon beamed in through the porthole and alight upon two figures. Korra's arm was draped over Mako's chest, and they were both snoring gently. Tenzin's blood pressure rose by a factor of ten, but he maintained his perfectly calm demeanor. There was nothing he could do, or really wanted to do about it. Korra was her own woman now, loathe as he was to admit it.

He smiled, despite himself.

"So much for focus and control." He muttered beneath his breath as he turned back.

His own bed was calling to him, and it was a summons he could not ignore.


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N: There is a reference to one of my favorite books as a child hidden somewhere in this story. Double brownie points for anyone who can locate it.)

**Life is a funny thing. Two men may live through the same thing, and afterwards one will tell one story, and another will tell it's opposite. **

**War is a funny thing. Two men may do battle, and afterwards one will sleep as soundly as a babe, and the other will crouch in fear, his hands still clutching for the hilt of his weapon. **

**Death is a funny thing. Two men may die for the same cause, and one shall be a hero for all time, and the other shall be forgotten forever.**

The breath hitched in Mako's throat, already dry and parched from the dust. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Something huge and terrible pursued him, and he only had time to glance occasionally over his shoulder at it. It looked like one of Hiroshi's mecha tanks, but it actually walked on its two stubby legs like some horrifying metal man. Airships swooped overhead, dropping bombs that impacted and blossomed into flowers of fire and debris.

He woke with a start, throwing the covers off of him entirely and sitting up straight as a board, his fists clutched in a classic fire bending stance. Slowly, the adrenaline dissipated. He was safe. Still the visions bothered him. It had been almost a month, why couldn't he get the images out of his head? Death, chaos, destruction, it was all he could recall from the final days of the failed revolution. He wanted so badly to remember the good parts, the parts people were already labeling them as heroes for, but it was always overwhelmed by a tide of the more disturbing memories: Korra helpless at the hands of Amon's blood bending, contorting in agony. Korra slumped over Naga's saddle, bruised and battered. The whole city coming down around their ears as Equalist bombs rained from the skies like locusts.

It was rather like a waking nightmare; he remembered the things he wanted to forget, and forgot the ones that were worth remembering.

Korra shifted next to him, mumbling something in her sleep. Mako considered waking her, talking to her about this, but decided against it. She had been so calm these past few days; it wasn't worth unloading his burdens onto her. She of all people deserved to be happy.

He retrieved the blanket from the floor and draped it over her gently, before pulling a tunic and his red scarf on and exiting the room silently. Everyone else had taken the opportunity to sleep in, so he held his vigil on the deck alone. In the distance, through the early morning fog, he could see Republic City's skyscrapers emerging out of the murk like a tangled stand of rushes sprouting from a bog.

He felt something warm shift in his stomach. It was the most familiar feeling in the world: home.

* * *

A cheerful tune was wafting down the street. A single street musician had set up shop on the corner of the plaza, and was deftly plucking out a song on his guitar that did not at all match the scene around him.

Mako was distracted. That much was obvious to Bolin. He had known him for long enough that his body language was practically screaming it. This was a rare thing for Mr. Cool Under Fire. Mako was normally focused, clipped, to the point. Now he was downright nervous.

"The pay isn't great, but that's not the point. I bring Pabu with me every day, and the press just eats him up. He's a rock star, aren't you Pabu?" Bolin said.

Pabu lifted his head from his paws to be scratched, as though saying "Yes, yes, I know I'm excellent."

"When the arena opens up again the Fire Ferrets will be the favorite, I guarantee it."

"Yeah…" Mako said absentmindedly.

Bolin followed his gaze to the buildings around them. It was hard to get used to, seeing the city in this condition. It had never exactly been a shining beacon of uprightness, at least, not the parts they frequented, but at least it had been intact, bustling. Now the buildings jutted out of the broken pavement like decaying teeth, their colorful facades shattered. Almost every single square inch had received damage of some kind, and there were still piles upon piles of debris that nobody had found the time to shift. The dust had been so bad that the council had recommended that older people stay indoors as much as possible, and wear cloths over their faces when they went out.

A whistle sounded somewhere close by, and Bolin tipped the remnants of his meal back into his lunchbox.

"That's the foreman, I gotta go." He said, standing up. "Hey, is there something bothering you Mako?"

The question seemed to jerk him out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Something wrong. You seem preoccupied, that's all, and not in a good way."

Mako's mouth twitched into a reflexive smile that did not reach his eyes, giving him an odd, almost mask-like appearance for a split second. He stood up as well and patted his brother on the shoulder.

"I'm fine Bolin. Thanks for asking."

Still, as he traipsed back to the construction site, Bolin couldn't help but look back over his shoulder. He saw Mako drop a coin into a beggar's dusty bowler hat. The scraggly, bearded man thanked him, and switched to a new tune on his guitar. This one was more somber.

* * *

The night was calm and peaceful. They were out in the patio, enjoying a moment of quiet in the normally bustling household. Tenzin and Pema had taken a much deserved night off for dinner on the town, leaving the children in the care of the air temple adepts. Mako and Korra sat cross-legged before a table, upon which lay a checkered board with pieces in various positions.

It had taken a lot to get Korra to sit down for something like this. She was more of a Pai Sho or checkers person, and when Mako had introduced the ancient Fire Nation game of chess to her, she had initially vetoed it, but he had managed to… persuade her. He watched, lips pressed together, as she gestured at one of her rooks. It sped across the board and right into the path of Mako's queen. Mako knocked the piece off the board a little more forcefully than he had meant to, and it went skittering off the garden path and into the dirt. Slowly, it levitated back under Korra's direction.

"So you want to play that game, do you?" Korra asked, a wicked grin on her face.

Before his eyes the pieces deformed, their miniature arms came unstuck from their sides. The knights pranced around the board, knocking their foes to the ground as the pawns bashed their little heads against each other, not having the reach enough to use their stubby hands.

Mako was reminded of the time Korra had told him she felt safe with him. The feeling was mutual. Sometimes he was a little intimidated, knowing that such a powerful being was just across the table from him. It was almost like sitting next to a bomb. A very pretty bomb…

"Hey, you can't do that…" Mako said, laughing.

"Oh yeah?" Korra replied, scooting around to his side. "Try and stop me."

The pieces fell to the board with a clatter as they shared a brief kiss. It was brief, because Ikki chose that very moment to rush up and interrupt them.

"Guys, guys! Meelo fell and scraped his- omigosh, are you guys kissing?"

Both of them broke apart like the other had suddenly become red hot, their faces blushing. Korra jumped to her feet and herded the young air bender away hurriedly.

"Mako, see if you can find some banana leaves in the garden."

Mako gathered up the scattered pieces and replaced them on the board before yanking out a handful of green shoots from a bush that was sprouting nearby. His feet made scratching noises as they deposited the little pebbles that had been embedded in them on the hardwood floor. He opened the door to the dining area, but it was empty. The plates had been set out for dinner, but the adepts were still out working.

Looking back, he couldn't pinpoint exactly what set him on edge. Something was wrong, but he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was like flipping through a book and getting the feeling of two pages instead of one between his fingers.

The sounds of Meelo's complaining from the next room temporarily reassured him, and he had just passed the head of the table where Tenzin usually sat when he heard a crash.

He whirled around to see not one, not two, but five Equalists in full regalia clambering over the windowsills.

"Korra!" Mako barked.

The shout seemed to stun the assailants temporarily. They had obviously been expecting the element of surprise. Mako used this time to turn and dash towards the other room. He could see Korra gathering the children behind her, Meelo clutching his knee, just as a pair of canisters rolled into the room and began expelling a noxious green gas. The doors to the parlor slammed shut, and the fighting began.

Mako turned once more to face the enemy, knowing that he would not be able to get through in time to avoid them. Fight or flight mode had kicked in, but this time, it wasn't a championship on the line, and he wasn't Mr. Cool Under Fire. He made a swooping circle with his arm, letting the static charge of the room acclimate to his body, and then he jabbed a pair of fingers straight ahead of him.

A tremendous burst of energy left his fingertips, dancing down the dining room table and shattering every plate as it went. The unfortunate soul on the receiving end was propelled forcefully through the double doors at the far end of the dining hall, where he lay motionless. At that moment a poorly aimed bolas smacked him on the temple, causing him to howl at the smarting pain and double over, dropping to his knees.

A stun stick made a solid contact with his side and he writhed, rolling over and over until he was underneath the table. After that, Mako lost track of time. He was not a honed instrument; he was an engine of devastation, pouring fire down upon the black suited figures with reckless abandon. When all before him had fallen, he turned and marched right through the thin paper divider that separated the parlor from the rest of the temple.

Two Equalists looked up from where they had been tying up Korra. The children lay slumped in the corner, motionless. He snapped. There were flashes of light and screams, but Mako was gone.

* * *

General Iroh stepped off the speedboat and onto solid ground.

"Form a perimeter, interrogate everyone. Nobody comes after us, and nobody leaves, clear?"

The United Forces soldiers fanned out, taking up their positions. A group of them accompanied him as he met the police commissioner on the steps up to the temple proper.

"Give me a report."

"Equalists. They came out of the surf on motorboats, scaled the tower and made entry. We have the survivors in custody, and I have a decontamination team suiting up to scrub the last residue of the knockout gas."

"Belay that. We need clues, this is a crime scene."

"With respect General, I know how to do my jo-"

"Wait a minute, did you say 'survivors'?" General Iroh said.

"Yes, survivors. The avatar was unharmed, as were the children. The Equalists however…"

"How bad?"

"Two dead, one in critical condition, not expected to survive. The others simply had the tar beaten out of them. Nothing a long stint in prison won't fix."

"Who did all this? The guards?" Iroh asked in wonderment.

They ascended the steps up to the patio, and the party caught sight of the answer to his question. He was being restrained by two earth benders.

"I want to see them. I have a right."

"Cool your jets kid, you're not going anywhere."

Iroh stepped calmly onto the top step, making a sidelong glance at the boy. His feet were encased in stone to keep him in place, but his eyes were staring straight ahead, trancelike. The General sighed. He had seen that stare before, in the eyes of some of his best men, and some of his worst. It was never a good tiding to see such a stare in a child. He held up his hand in the air, signaling those present to leave, which they did immediately, and without question.

A chess board was all set to play in front of them when he sat down, but Iroh didn't bother to make a joke about it. He didn't have time.

"Mako. Tell me what happened."

Mako looked at him as though seeing him for the first time.

"It was the Equalists. They almost killed her."

"Thankfully we have determined that was not their intent."

"Oh you have, have you? We'll that's good to know. Really puts my mind at **ease**!"

A little gout of flame left his mouth as he spat out the last word. Iroh frowned, and leaned closer.

"You remind me of my grandfather. You share much in attitude, if not in demeanor."

Mako opened his mouth as if he was about to retort, but apparently thought better of it. He seemed to fall slack against his restraints, as though the nervous energy had suddenly been drained from him.

"They won't let me talk to them."

"I'll have the rocks removed in a moment, when you're calmer, and you can go see Korra and the children for yourself."

"No. Not them." Mako said. "The Equalists."

"The Equalists? What do you want with them?"

"To finish what I started." Mako said emotionlessly.

"Obviously. That's why you're being kept-"

"That's not what I meant. I want to interrogate them, find out why they're still around even though Amon is history."

Iroh paused, considering the boy in a new light. He seemed much calmer now, if a bit… grim. He could feel the beginnings of a deft political maneuver forming in his mind. The mastery and coldness of it surprised even him. Without a word or change of expression, he put it into action. It was as simple as shifting gears in a Satomobile.

"What if I told I was inclined to let you have your wish?"

Mako looked directly into his eyes this time. He could feel those brown-stained obsidian orbs searching him for deception as only a teenager could.

"How rough can I be?"

"As long as they can still walk up the courthouse steps, you're fine. Anything more than that I can't pretend to ignore. You killed three of them Mako."

"What?"

His demeanor change suddenly. Iroh watched the nervous energy seep back, watched his hands ball into fists.

_Good_, Iroh thought. _That was the appropriate response. It shows you still feel something._

"Yes, that's right. Two of the Equalists were carried out of here in a body bag, the third is awaiting his as we speak. Even if it is some terrorist nobody, it doesn't look good. It doesn't help ease the tension that exists just underneath the surface. This recent spate of good feelings could vaporize in an instant if something happened to drive a wedge between benders and non-benders."

"Then why are you letting me do this?"

"Because I know you'll go after them." Iroh said. "More than that, I know you'll find them. My soldiers can only do so many raids without police permission. The _bureaucracy_ and the citizenry are getting pretty tired of us. They're tired of the lines, they're tired of the rationing, and they're tired of the curfews. Sooner or later the council will reject martial law and kick us out. The more I can accomplish with free agents like you, the better."

"I'm glad you have confidence in me, General, but aren't the police and the army supposed to be working together?"

Iroh laughed bitterly.

"It's called inter-service rivalry Mako. It's not supposed to exist, but it does. How would you feel if an entire battalion of soldiers started doing your job for you?"

"Threatened, I guess…" Mako said, doubtless imagining a battalion of United Forces troops crammed onto one end of the bending arena.

"Exactly. I give it three days, a week at most, before the combat troops are ordered out by the civilian government. This is our shining opportunity to get rid of the Equalist remnants, once and for all. They're on the run with their necks exposed, just waiting for someone to strike the killing blow. That someone is _**you**_**.**"

* * *

The sentries stood stock still as General Iroh and his men waltzed in as though they owned the place. Trailing behind them were the shackled Equalist prisoners and… Mako.

Iroh flipped a Pai Sho piece through his fingers. It had the emblem of a white lotus flower inscribed upon it.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us for a moment, we need the room."

The White Lotus sentries exchanged dubious glances, and then left the ruined dining room without a word. Afterward, they told no one of the noises they overheard coming from the room. Sometimes silence was betrayal. In this case it was loyalty.

* * *

There they were again, in the garden. The chess board had not been moved and it was evening once more. It was almost as though nothing had happened. Almost, save for the absence of children's laughter. Mako was tugging on his overcoat, tucking his signature scarf over the collar.

"So you're not even going to eat dinner with us?" Korra was saying.

"No, I'm sorry. I have business in the city tonight; I won't be back until very late, maybe not even until tomorrow."

"And you can't tell me what you're going to do?" She said in an exasperated tone.

"No. I'm sorry Korra, it's just better if you didn't know. I'm doing a favor for General Iroh."

"Oh really? Remind me of the great favors General Iroh has done for you."

"He did help us take back Republic City in the first place." Mako said. "Nearly spent two whole fleets doing it as I recall."

Korra sighed deeply and got to her feet, walking to stand next to him. The city glittered upon its distant shore, like a bio-luminescent insect.

"I know. I'm sorry. Just… be careful out there, alright?"

They embraced; Mako placed his chin on her shoulder and inhaled deeply. He loved the smell of her hair after she had washed it with Tenzin's fragrant soaps. It reminded him of clean laundry and freshly cut grass. It reminded him what he was fighting for.

"I will. Goodnight Korra."

The streets were literally empty when Mako's feet hit the pavement after a long, silent boat ride. The electricity grid was turned off at night to save power, making it rather pointless for civilians to break curfew. There was nowhere to go and nothing to see. He tied his boat up at the docks and stepped down one of the side streets. It was harder to find his way around now that everything was so beat to hell. He got lost twice, but eventually made it to the neighborhood that the Equalist captive had specified. The memory of a smell wafted into his mind at this thought. Burning human hair. Was he no better than them? No, they had just pushed him beyond his breaking point. No reasonable person could be expected to maintain a code of ethics in this dirty, underhanded struggle.

He met an old face along the way. A drifter rat named Tang.

"What do you want? I told you I aint got yer money you- …Mako?"

Mako dropped a few copper coins into the old man's palm. Some people took him for a fool, but he knew how tough living on the streets was.

"It's me alright. In the flesh."

The man scrunched the coins into a tower of pennies and stared at them.

"So whadda ya want for this, bigshot? Powder or herb, 'cause this aint enough for both."

"I'm not looking to score. I'm looking for information. You see that apartment block over there? Who lives on the second floor?"

The old timer scratched his chin pensively. Mako's eye twitched, like a fly caught in a spiderweb.

"Don't pull that foggy memory crap on me, that's all I've got and that's all you're getting."

"I'm not!" Tang protested. "I'm genuinely tryin' to recollect! Now lemme see… second floor… Lot of strange folks coming through here these days, but I think you picked the strangest. They're in and out at odd hours, four guys and a gal if I remember right. Doesn't take a crystal ball to see what's going on there, he he he…"

"Spirits bless your journey, Tang. I gotta go now."

"Wait!"

Mako stopped.

"You… got a smoke?"

"Different times, different people, Tang. I don't play the old games anymore."

Tang waved his hand dismissively

"Yeah, I get it. Big damn hero. Go on and do your white knight thing you cheeky little beggar."

There was genuine hurt in Tang's voice, and Mako wanted to say that he hadn't forgotten his old friends, that he hadn't forgotten where he came from, but he didn't. He had the arena now, and he had Korra. His old life held no allure for him anymore.

He circled around to the side and checked the entrance. A wrought iron gate was shut across the entrance. The courtyard beyond was strewn with trash thrown from the inner windows of the apartments above. Mako placed his palm about half an inch above the keyhole and brought to life an intensely hot but very small jet of flame. He had found that cheap locks such as this could be easily circumvented with the proper application of fire. It was a technique he had read about in one of the great epics written by exiled air nomads. An air bender could, with just the right amount of force, cause the pins inside a tumbler to depress just enough to turn it with a thin strip of metal, or a fingernail. Since fire caused it's own weather, Mako had adapted a trick of his own that would send a superhot jet of air rushing through the keyhole, to much the same effect. The difference was that the lock was ruined. Cheap pot metal deformed, grasping the tumblers and permanently opening it.

The gate swung back. Thankfully it had been kept well oiled, and did not cause a commotion. A figure was sleeping on a cardboard mat in a corner. Mako pulled up the collar of his greatcoat against the wind and quietly stepped into the front office.

It smelled of bleach, and old paper. There were a few beaten chairs leaning against the walls, but other than that, decoration was sparse. He ascended the stairs in the corner slowly, taking care not to creak on each step. The corridor above was oddly silent, save for the faint crackle of a wireless set without a connection. Some doors had their lights on, including the one he was after.

Room 837 was the Republic City seedy motel equivalent of a president's suite. There were only two doors on this wall, as opposed to the others which had four. Mr. 837 had his light on, and the murmur of voices could be heard coming from within. The neighbor had apparently turned in for the night. It was firmly locked. Mako took a deep breath.

This would have to be quick.

* * *

Violet sat alone on the couch, arms crossed, watching them finish the bomb.

It was their most sophisticated device yet. She had heard the reports of what the other groups had been up to, and all of them were still fiddling around with fertilizer and carts. The bomb in front of them was concealed inside a leather briefcase. Ten metal pipes, each filled with a jellied explosive mixture, which they had brokered through a corrupt Fire Nation supply colonel. The detonation system was a single wire running into and out of each, synced to a single egg timer. All one had to do was reach into the bag nonchalantly, flip a switch and set the egg timer to the desired setting. Simple. Not even these two lunkheads could screw it up.

The Equalists had fallen more than a few pegs since the revolution failed. These were the dregs of the diehards. The bottom of the barrel. She had lost all her good soldiers in the botched raid on the air temple, and now she was down to these two. Her handler had long since stopped answering his phone, the metalbenders were tapping the lines, or so the rumor went. Their army, once everywhere, was now whittled down to scraps, each one alone and isolated.

That's what they were, she had realized, too late. They were soldiers, fighting for a world free from bending and injustice. A world where the sweat of one's brow and the strength of their back determined their destiny, not what sorcery they could conjure up or kings they could hoodwink.

At that moment, however, destiny caught up with them.

The door flew open with a bang, the doorknob embedding itself in the plaster and the deadbolt flying across the room attached to a large splinter of wood. A tall, dark haired young man with a red scarf stepped across the threshold.

"Oh, I'm sorry, have I come at a bad time?"

The lackeys looked up from the bomb in utter shock, but Violet leapt up from her seat on the couch, a shock device fitted on her palm.

* * *

Mako had to dig deep for this one. Simple rage would not be enough. The woman was almost the same age as him, perhaps a little older, and much more skilled. As they fended off a flurry of each others blows, Mako weaving to keep her palm from touching him, he could clearly see the lines underneath her eyes, and the pure hatred burning within.

He dared not use fire bending, lest he set off the bomb in the middle of the floor. The beauty of bending was that it could be applied to hand-to-hand combat. Almost all of the moves that normally produced fire could also produce a nasty bruise or broken bone when used properly. The two men took a few steps back and picked up their stun batons. They stood nervously to one side, not seeing how to help their leader without hurting her in the confined space.

One particularly forceful overhand strike whistled toward his temple, and Mako saw his chance. He leaned down, as if to tie up his shoes, ducking under the vicious blow and bobbing back up once he had felt the wind from it gently tousle his hair. He answered with an open-handed strike of his own, which knocked the Equalist squarely off her feet and sent her crashing into a corner.

Mako spun to meet the other two, perhaps a quarter of a second too late. One baton simply glanced off his clothing, but the other found a space between his shirt sleeve and the cold-weather gloves he was wearing. The pain of the shock was intense, but he internalized it, using it to fuel his next moves. They kept circling, trying to surround him, but he was having none of it. When one of them stumbled over an upturned edge of carpet, Mako was on him in a flash, dealing out a wicked spinning kick that landed right on the side of the man's head, knocking him out instantly.

The other, seeing his comrade fall and knowing it was now or never, charged him with the baton held overhand, as though he was about to drive home a railroad spike. Mako watched him come. His muscles ached with the memory of his movements, and the expectation of more. The words of his first sensei came to him, as though from a great distance. Slow time. Moving circles. Shadow walking. He felt them going through the motions even before he actually sprang forward and knocked the man out with two well aimed blows to the jaw.

He stepped aside to avoid being crushed underneath his former foe, just in time to see a wicked blade rend the air where he had just stood. The woman was on her feet again, and this time she had a cutting knife in her hand.

The following movement was much more careful, almost like a dance. Mako kept just outside of an imaginary bubble he had drawn in his head. Thankfully her arms were not the longest, and he had plenty of room to maneuver as she came after him swinging the vorpal instrument. Mako snatched a dish towel from the rack by the sink.

Time to end this.

There was no opportunity now, but if he could he would have said a silent prayer to Tang for teaching him how to fight someone with a knife when you had none. He stood perfectly still, waiting until the very last moment to spring his arms forward like a trapdoor spider, encircling her delicate wrist and twisting the knife from her grasp. It clattered to the floor and he kicked it away.

The next thing he knew he was seeing stars. His vision blacked out temporarily, and he backed into the rack of dishes, sending them smashing to the floor and nearly tripping them both. The girl could punch. That much was certain. He kicked out hard with his right foot and caught her in the midsection, sending her toppling to the linoleum where she smacked her head. She tried to get up and punch him again, but he caught her fist in his hand and twisted it until she was kneeling on the floor in a half-nelson. They both sat still for a few seconds, panting heavily.

"Are you done?" Mako said through clenched teeth. "Because we can keep going all night until you are."

In response the woman broke free of his grasp and lunged for the bomb. Mako flipped her over onto her back with his heel, grasped her firmly by the neck and hauled her upright, slamming her into the wall. She dangled there, a few inches off the ground, legs flailing uselessly. A new look had entered her face. This one was not nearly so defiant.

Mako pointed a stern finger in her face. A single flame, almost white hot, emanated from it.

"I want to do one thing right now. I want to do it more than anything I've ever done, and that is to remove you from the face of this earth. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to live, to go off and spread your hate like a virus, infecting normal people. I was a normal person, until you infected me. Now I can't stop. It's like I'm in the middle of a fight, all the time. I can't hit the off switch now, thanks to you guys. So as much as I want to burn you and your little friends to ashes, I'm not going to. On one condition. Ask me."

"Ask… you what?" She choked.

"Ask me what the condition is."

"W-what's the condition?"

"The condition is, if I ever see any of you ever again, in this life or the next, I will kill you where you stand. Is that clear?"

She looked deep into his eyes for a moment and then nodded.

"Good. When your friends come to visit you in jail, tell them what I said goes for them as well."

With that, he let her feet return to the floor. Before she could do anything, he spun her around and placed two fingers firmly against her jugular.

"Word to the wise: the more you relax, the less of a headache you will have when you wake up."

After less than a minute, she slumped to the floor, out cold. Mako checked his watch, and the doorway. If possible, there was even less sound now than there had been two and a half minutes ago when he had first entered. Nobody seemed to want to come and be the Good Samaritan, which worked out just fine for him. He picked the phone up off its receiver and dialed the Republic City help code.

"Hello, emergency services, how may I help you?"

"I need police and fire on the 800 block of Gae Lao Avenue. In the Sing Wei hotel on the second floor, there is a room numbered 837. Inside you will find three known terrorists and a cache of weapons."

He could hear frantic writing coming from the other end.

"Can I get your name sir?"

"You should hurry, before someone else comes along and decides to make off with a free bomb."

He left the room without another word, letting the telephone swing freely on its cord.

* * *

They stood facing each other in the center of the empty gym, a dozen paces apart. Korra's lean form was encased in a thick cotton robe and white helmet, identical to the pair Mako was wearing.

"I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're the Avatar, you know." Mako said, smiling an invisible smile behind the mesh eyeholes.

Korra responded by lunging forward with a terrific water tribe war whoop and a massive over-handed slice. She had been coming to the upper floor of the arena every afternoon for several weeks now to spar with short swords. It was more of a dance then a fight. Each allowed the other plenty of leeway to make their attacks, but reserving just enough time to parry them and return in kind. They whirled back and forth, a perfect unending circle of attack and defense.

Suddenly, Mako found himself on his back with a wooden sword underneath his chin. Korra removed his helmet with a flick of her wrist. The grin on her face should have been illegal.

"Sorry, I got tired of waiting."

Mako dropped his own sword and grasped hers, yanking it so that she had no choice but to topple forward onto him. They wrestled playfully for a while before falling back against the cool rubber mats, panting.

They lay there a while, side by side, not talking. Korra scooted herself closer, and rested on one elbow, watching him. He peeked at her from behind his closed eyelids. She had a strange look on her face. Mako opened his eyes and pretended to notice this for the first time.

"Something wrong?"

"I've been meaning to ask you the same question all week."

"You have?" Mako said, his eyebrows bunching up ever so slightly.

"I have. Something's bugging you, Mako, I can tell."

Mako put on his fake smile.

"Oh, is that what-"

Korra suddenly became several degrees more serious.

"Don't do that. Don't shut me out Mako. I want to know."

Mako could feel the mask drop. He knew the game was up. His fingers clenched, almost reflexively. He turned and stared into her eyes.

"You want to know what's been bugging me?"

"More than anything else." Korra said, and he could tell she meant it.

Mako took a deep breath. She was waiting for a really good explanation, and frankly, he didn't know if he had one.

"You know that feeling you get, right before you go into a really tough fight? That swoop in your stomach?"

Korra nodded.

"I can't turn that off anymore. It'll happen anywhere, anytime, for something that isn't even dangerous. I can forget about it for… hours sometimes, mostly when I'm with you. It always comes back though. Mostly when I'm sleeping."

"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

Mako shrugged, his face getting red for some unfathomable reason.

"I don't know, I didn't think it was a big deal. It's all in my head. Something I have to deal with myself."

"That's not true. You could go to a healer."

"And say what? I'm afraid of a battle that's already happened? I jump whenever a car backfires?"

"Yes. You should have told Katara about this. She helped many of our tribe's returning warriors when the hundred-year-war ended."

"I wasn't thinking about it then." Mako said, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "I was thinking about you."

He was happy to see her eyes soften, and some of the concern leave them.

"I know you're worried about me, but don't. It only makes it worse. I'll be fine, Korra. Trust me."

Both of them leaned closer, closing their eyes and savoring the feeling of each other's presence. Korra's hot breath blew over him as she spoke once more before kissing him.

"I do trust you Mako, more than anybody else in the whole world."

For just a moment, Mako was transported out of this earthly realm, tasting paradise. Then the kiss ended. Slowly, he opened his eyes again. The corners of her olive lips were turned up in a smile.

The sound of footsteps made them both jump. Before they had time to stand up, General Iroh strode through the door and right up to them in his usual confident manner.

"Good afternoon Avatar."

Korra dipped her head politely.

"Same to you, General."

"I hope you would not take offence if I spoke to Mako alone for a moment would you?"

Korra shot Mako a sidelong glance.

"Of… course not…"

She got up and exited the gym quietly. When she had gone, Mako stood up.

"You did well. The task was handled with discretion." Iroh said.

"Thank you."

"I have more work for you, if you're interested. The woman was not of much use to us. The other two, however, sang like pigeon-doves. We have the locations of at least three more safe houses."

"Count me in."

"Good. I knew I could rely on you." The General said. "I'm putting you on the payroll. You'll report to my intelligence XO. He'll give you the info, you go out and pound the pavement."

"Do you think I could get some backup next time? It was hectic in there. Things almost didn't go my way."

"Yeah, I heard. Look, right now you're little better than hired muscle as far as my superiors are concerned. What I'm doing is just as illegal as the bomb those Equalists were making. If you want backup, you're going to have to sign up."

"Then I'll go it alone. Once this arena opens up again I won't have the time to be a soldier." Mako said.

Iroh shook his head.

"Not a soldier, an officer. You'd be working with the intelligence wing, like I said. You'd report once daily by phone to get updates and orders. It would be a limited contract; six months max, you'd never leave Republic City. Nobody else would know, that's how the intel wing is run."

Mako hesitated. Korra watched his hands fidget behind his back through the crack in the door where she was listening.

"It's a lot to think about. Sleep on it, give me your answer in the morning." Iroh said, turning and leaving the way he had come.

Everything was silent once again. Mako stood stock still, staring at the place the general had left through. Korra pushed open the door.

"What did he want?"

"Iroh? He wanted…" Mako said, trailing off.

Korra put a finger to his lips.

"Nevermind. I don't want to hear you lie to me," she said, smiling that olive smile once more. "I just want to feel you kiss me."

And they did.

(A/N: This review for review thing is working out better than I thought it would. It's getting me out of my shell and actually reading other people's work, whereas before I mostly just authored. Some of you guys are really talented!

In case you were wondering what the second tune that the beggar played was, this is it:  /watch?v=UNftrsCMiQs)


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: I have a new beta reader for this story. Her name is Amber Faith, and she's very good at what she does.)

The scroll lay unrolled over Mako's knee, the place where he had left off underlined by a large eagle-hawk quill. The crooning notes of Howie Bunker and the Rum Monkeys piped softly out of a gramophone beside him. The sun was beaming down through the window at the perfect angle. Its warmth reminded him of being close to Korra on a muggy summer night, something they had not done as frequently as he would have liked. It seemed they were constantly shuttling her off to some secret meeting or other, always under armed guard. When would they simply be able to be together, without distractions? Perhaps it was a selfish thought, but he was tired of having to share his girlfriend with every wannabe statesman and politician in the city.

He stretched his limbs, cat-like, appreciating the softness of the easy chair. It was brand new, just like a lot of things in their once-humble loft. Some of the new arrivals had been purchased with their previous winnings, but most were gifts intended for Korra. Since Korra was the type of person whose personal honor abhorred a hand-out, and her new schedule didn't have time for answering the piles of fan mail, Mako had made an arrangement with the White Lotus sentries to have it delivered to his residence above the arena. He was pretty sure the postman had a grudge against him at this point, but there was nothing he could do about the ten flights of stairs expect to smile and tip him generously.

The return addresses were from near and far, many of the senders rich men and nobles, or so he surmised from their intricate letterhead and penmanship. Most of these had some sort of request or proposition, and the gifts ranged from dime-store trinkets to elaborate masterpieces. A bottle of expensive perfume. A flawlessly crafted oak mandolin, which Mako had taken to plucking at ineffectually when no one was around. An exquisitely patterned silk quilt, which Bolin had tied to his bedposts to make them look more regal. His favorite, however, was an ornately carved humidor filled to the brim with a brand of cigar that once would have cost him a month of scrounging for just one. One of these was burning in the ashtray next to the gramophone and the inkpot, trailing a delicate fragrance while he mulled over the next words in his report to General Iroh.

He found it strange, then, that he didn't feel particularly on top of the world at the moment. Instead he simply felt restless, like he was forgetting someone's birthday. He didn't feel comfortable living in the lap of luxury while the rest of the city waited three hours just to get a ration of hardtack and some watery miso soup. It wasn't just potentially bad for their image, it was wrong.

For every letter from a powerful figure trying to gain leverage and influence there was a dozen handwritten notes from children in some far flung province hoping to get mail from the avatar. For some reason this made Mako feel even worse than the gifts.

Three pairs of footsteps and several noisy voices reached his ears, Bolin's loudest among them. Mako sighed, tucked his port away in a side table drawer and locked it. He removed the record from the turntable and placed it delicately back into it's sleeve. He grasped the cigar and placed it between his teeth, taking a long drag and letting it drift out from between his lips in a long white trail before putting it out with a flick of his wrist. He had lived with Bolin in this cramped little apartment long enough to know when he was about to be interrupted.

The door burst open, and Bolin strode in with a girl under each arm. Mako changed gears mentally, retreating behind the hard, disapproving mask that he had used on Korra until she had proven herself a Fire Ferret.

"…and his here is my room, as you can see- oh…" Bolin said, catching sight of Mako's non-plussed expression.

If a picture could convey a thousand word's, Mako's raised eyebrow was worth ten times that number. The two girls, however, were not dettered by his stony demeanor.

"Oooh, you must be Mako!"

"Oh my gosh, we've heard so much about you!"

Mako grabbed his scarf off the back of the easy chair and wrapped it around his neck. Bolin stepped forward, leaning on his two female armrests.

"Sorry gals, he's taken."

"Oh really?" one of the girls said, scooting up to Mako and attempting to put her arm around his waist, which he sidestepped. "I think I could change your mind…"

"I don't think Korra would like that." Bolin said with a laugh. "Snatching the avatar's man is a dangerous game."

"I'll catch you later Bolin." Mako said pointedly, trying to bring this conversation to a close as quickly as possible.

"Would you excuse us a moment, ladies? Make yourself at home."

Bolin grasped his brother firmly by the shoulder and lead him into the opposite corner.

"Later? Where are you going? I'm throwing a party for the Fire Ferrets before the new season kicks off, even Asami is going. You can't tell me you're going to miss it."

"That's what I'm telling you," Mako replied. "Korra and I have to go to a meeting with the chief of police."

"So let me get this straight-" Bolin said, closing his eyes and holding up one finger in an exaggerated expression of disbelief. "I'm about to throw the biggest party in Republic City, food, drinks, pretty girls, the whole nine yards, and you're ditching it to go to some… meeting? Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask away."

"Have you lost your mind?"

Mako mimed shaking his head around with his hands.

"You know, I can't hear it rattling around up there, I may have misplaced it."

Bolin crossed his arms and frowned, ignoring the humor.

"I'll say. I've heard you say some stuffy things in your time bro, but this takes the cake."

Mako almost said "well someone has to be the adult", but caught himself just in time.

"Come on, you know I've never been one for parties." He said instead. "Me and Korra will be along a little later, that's all. You're not going to end it until two in the morning or something crazy, right?"

"Two? Try twelve noon the next day!"

"Alright, plenty of time to party then." Mako said, eyeing the door. "I'll see you when I see you."

The girls were sitting on the bed, talking to each other behind their hands. Occasionally they would glance over and giggle at some private joke known only to them.

"Do what makes you happy, I guess." Bolin said.

Mako turned to leave.

"Don't worry. I will."

"Byeeeee Makoooo!" The girls crooned in unison, before relapsing into laughter once more.

When the door had shut behind him, Bolin rejoined his two companions on the bed. He lifted his arm up, made a fist, and a green glass bottle with a rock tied around the stopper sped into his fingertips.

"Anybody care for a little pregame warm-up?"

* * *

Korra watched the faces flash by outside as their car bumped over the loose cobblestones. She would have preferred to take Naga, but Tenzin had insisted upon tighter security for the avatar after the attack at the temple. A pair of White Lotus sentries had been assigned to shadow her at all times. They sat in the front seats, one driving and the other flipping through a magazine. Neither was much for conversation, although perhaps that was a blessing.

As they pulled up to the curb of City Hall, Korra caught sight of Mako chatting with what looked like General Iroh. For a moment she could have sworn she saw him snap a salute and hand something to him, but the next moment the White Lotus sentry had stepped in front of the window to open her door for her, and when she stepped onto the sidewalk the United Forces officer was nowhere to be seen. Mako was standing alone waiting for her.

"Bolin is throwing a party in the loft tonight. He says we're invited."

"That was nice of him." Korra said, a little more coldly than she had intended.

Mako had been keeping secrets from her, and she did not like it. Everyone else did it, but when it was him… somehow it offended her deeply. She tried not to let it show, but it was difficult. Tenzin always said she had trouble concealing her emotions.

She took his hand and they walked up the massive steps, trying to ignore the bodyguards tailing them and the sidelong glances that followed the avatar wherever she went. The hall was packed with people and interns bustling back and forth. The low buzz of conversation echoed off the towering columns and archways. The building had received the most damage during the rebellion, but had been repaired the quickest. The sections of new stone and marble had been painstakingly smoothed and painted, making the battle scars indistinguishable.

They reached the door to the upstairs rooms, a large steel contraption with a sign on the front that read "**authorized personnel only beyond this point**". They went to go through, but one of the guards held up a hand.

"Just the avatar. Your friend will have to wait outside."

"Mako is coming with me." Korra said impatiently.

"I have a direct order from Chief Saikhan. No one but the avatar may enter."

"If both of us can't go, then neither of us will-" Korra began, but Mako cut across her.

"You go ahead, Korra, I'll wait for you in the lobby."

"Are you sure?"

"It'll be fine."

Reluctantly, Korra let go of his hand and stepped inside. The door shut behind her with a click.

* * *

Mako sat on one of the benches beside a planter, observing the comings and goings of the municipal staff. People watching was one of his hobbies, although hardly his most interesting one. He would look at a person and try to guess as much about them as possible from their appearance. It was hard to pick with so many, though. There was a long line of people waiting their turn to talk to one of the receptionists, but the girls at the counter were working fast, serving as many as they could, as fast as they could. It was as though some of the old atmosphere of the city had been preserved here. Out on the street the attitude was slower, bleaker. Each person was simply going one day to the next, but here it seemed some of the bustle and barter of the marketplace had survived.

One voice stood out among the others, making enough of an impression to turn his head.

* * *

Lin was not in a good mood. It was only two o'clock, but she was already feeling like picking up a bureaucrat by his lapels and depositing him in a trash can. This was typically the sign that she needed to call it a day, but it was still too early, and she had too much to do.

"Inform him that he's wasting his time. I am taking the rest of the day off and I won't be in tomorrow either. He can just pack his bags and go back to Omashu."

The toady little man that they had assigned as her assistant followed close behind, his little legs pumping to keep up with her long strides.

"But Miss Beifong, the vice-consul will not be pleased to hear this, not to mention that it's not entirely true…"

"The vice-consul can pound sand. I didn't come out of retirement for you just to listen to some long-winded old bat try to force me to agree to his demands." She said. "You can stop hovering around me too, I'm not about to do anything else useful. Go help Lee at the front counter, he looks like he's about to have a nervous breakdown."

The man sidled away, looking sullen.

"_You_ look like you're about to have a nervous breakdown, Lin." A voice called out from one of the benches

Lin's head snapped around, but her serious expression turned into a wry smile when she saw who it was.

"Hey Mako, didn't expect to see you here." She said, rounding the bench and sitting down next to him. She moved gingerly, her joints protesting the quick shift in stance.

"I could say the same thing. I thought you retired?"

"Funny, I've been thinking the same thing. I can't be a commissioner anymore- can't go back to walking the beat either, not with these creaky old joints. By all rights I should be neck deep in a hot spring somewhere, taking in some sun, but my phone rings off the hook most days with people asking for my advice or support in some wild scheme or other. The problem is, some of them really do need my help."

"I guess it's nice to be wanted."

"That's an interesting way of putting it." Lin said, shooting Mako an appraising look. "You know, you've grown up a lot."

It was the truth. Before the showdown with the Equalists, she had seen him as just another shiftless street kid, but now he had an entirely different air about him. It was an imperceptible change, but it made all the difference in how she treated him.

"I'll take that as a compliment, I guess." Mako said.

"You should. Korra needs someone around her with a level head, and right now that someone is you."

She was going to bestow her advice whether he liked it or not. That's how old people were supposed to work, right? Like a broken vending machine dispensing, free of charge, a product that everyone needed but nobody wanted.

"I remember when I first laid eyes on you. I knew you were troublemakers." Lin said with a grin. "You and your brother were being hauled into the station for stealing from a fruit stall. Let me see, you were about… twelve? I think that would make Bolin ten."

"Really?" Mako said, looking somewhat surprised. "I don't remember you at all until much later."

"That's because I always watched from afar. Petty crimes weren't my jurisdiction, so we didn't meet face-to-face until you started knocking over tea houses."

Mako's face burned, and he looked away. Lin suddenly felt like a bit of an ass. It was a portion of his life that he probably didn't want to relive.

"Don't worry about it. I know you were doing it to put food on the table for your brother. It's part of the reason you never got slapped with a serious sentence."

They lapsed into silence, Mako resting his elbows on his knees. She knew she ought to feel a bit awkward, delving into someone else's personal life like this, but she had one last thing she wanted to say, and he didn't seem to have anywhere to be.

"You know, in some ways you two remind me of Aang and Katara."

Mako turned to face her, his eyes lighting up somewhat.

"Really?"

Between the folds of his coat, Lin caught sight of something that distracted her. A pair of dog tags.

"Yes." Lin said, leaning closer. "The intensity of what you two share reminds me a lot of them. It was almost like they could communicate telepathically. Got a bit annoying sometimes…"

Like an egret-crane spearing a passing fish, her arm snaked out and grabbed the tags, pulling them into the light of day.

"What is this?"

Mako quickly tugged them back out of her grasp and tucked them into his collar once more.

"Nothing…"

"It's not nothing! Geeze Louise Mako, who convinced you to join the army?"

"I didn't- It's not-" Mako began, but stopped, taking a deep breath and collecting himself.

"It's not like that. This is a six month agreement, nothing more. I am doing a personal favor for General Iroh."

Lin did not interrupt as he told her the whole story about the effort to wipe out the last of the Equalist remnants.

"So what do you say? You want to help me? You're always going on about how you'd love to be back on the beat, making a difference. What about this?"

Lin considered the proposal honestly for a moment before replying.

"Truth be told, I would love nothing better than to tear after you kids on some crazy adventure, but I'm too old. I've always served this city; I just do it differently nowadays. If that means I have to push pencils across a desk and not see any real action, then that's the sacrifice I have to make."

Mako nodded.

"I understand."

"You should take care, Mako." Lin said. "General Iroh is a man of honor and conviction, but sometimes when our convictions are strong enough they blind us to reality, you follow me?"

"I won't let him manipulate me." Mako said.

Lin sighed.

"I'm not worried about him manipulating you; I'm worried that he's going to get you killed on one of these crazy raids. Do you know what that would do to Korra? She would be **devastated**."

At that moment the girl in question emerged from the doors to the upper, restricted floors, and began descending the staircase. Even from here she could see that her expression was not one of merriment.

"It was good talking to you, Lin." Mako said as stood up.

"Thanks for listening." Lin replied.

She watched the two of them share a brief kiss, and then they departed the hall together, their guards in tow. For one quiet moment, the ache wasn't in her joints, but in her soul. The shifting of old memories had a pain all its own, and remembering Aang, young and in his prime like Mako was now, was the most painful of them all. Times were changing, and they were leaving her behind.

* * *

"No."

It was a word Korra hadn't been using nearly as often as she would have liked. In the water tribe there were only two answers, "yes" and "no", and they had exactly those meanings and not a word more.

Ever since she had arrived in Republic City, and especially after Amon's defeat, she had discovered that there was an entirely new lexicon for these two simple terms. There was the "No, because…" and the "Absolutely not, how dare you even suggest…", and her personal favorite "Yes, but…" which was a minefield in its own right. It seemed that here these two simple words, "yes" and "no" ran on a continuum that had been previously unknown to her. Someone could say yes and mean no (and vice versa) without once uttering an untruth.

Therefore, when speaking to someone like Saikahn, who had occupied these strange circles all his life, it was rather difficult to impress upon him that when she said "no", that was precisely what she meant. It was absolutely infuriating, but she was trying to keep her temper in check, as Tenzin had told her.

"That is an unacceptable answer, Korra. You have a duty to this city. You're an icon now, whether you like it or not. A symbol of stability. It's only natural that you would work with us to reassure people we have the situation under control. Republic City's problems are your problems."

"The **world's **problems are my problems," Korra replied, "I have to be independent of earthly agencies, otherwise I can't be impartial. That's just how it works, and if you can't deal with it, then that's just too bad."

She could see Saikahn's knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. His voice, through, remained perfectly level. It was a little eerie.

"I'm not asking you to drop everything else. The Fire Ferrets will of course take priotrity, but you would simply appear alongside us at press conferences, to give the impression that you're involved."

"But I don't want to be involved. Remember Tarrlock's little power grab? I'm done with task forces."

Just then another thing that had been bothering her popped into her mind.

"…speaking of which, what do you have Mako doing?"

"I'm sorry?" Saikahn said, without hesitating.

"You know what I mean. He's gone at all hours, he's always talking to General Iroh, and he won't tell me anything about it. What did you blackmail him with?"

"I haven't blackmailed anyone, believe it or not, and I am fairly insulted that you would insinuate that I would do such a thing. General Iroh is a United Forces officer. He does not fall under my jurisdiction, unfortunately. If he did I would be making quite a few changes to the way they operate in this city, but that is neither here nor there."

She stood up to leave, not bothering to push her chair in. Saikahn stood as well.

"Fine. If you won't tell me the truth, and you don't have a real issue to discuss besides your little pet project, then this meeting is over."

"Korra, wait! At least let me task a few metalbenders to your guard detail!"

"Absolutely not. I won't allow you to waste officers on me when I'm perfectly capable of defending herself." Korra said as she stormed out. "The only reason I let the White Lotus follow me around is because I respect Tenzin and I am humoring him. I can't say the same for you."

With that, the door slammed behind her, much more forcefully than was necessary. Her head still buzzing somewhat, she descended the staircase, trying to catch sight of Mako.

In the end, it was him that found her. The moment their hands met, she realized how much she disliked being away from him. It was a strange feeling that had required her being grilled by a veteran police commander to bring it to the surface. They shared a kiss that was a little slice of heaven.

"So what did he want?"

Korra shook her head.

"Nothing I could give him."

Mako looked like he wanted to ask further, but he did not. Together they walked out of City Hall, their feet clacking in unison on the polished marble as they went.

* * *

Tycho watched the trucks back up impatiently. This whole thing was bullshit. He knew it. His men knew it. And yet, here they were, making a weapons deal with Equalists. Life had some strange twists. He had a strange compulsion to mock them now that it was common knowledge Amon had been a bender, but he refrained. Business was business.

It didn't really matter what his opinions on them were, as he had explained to the crew, they didn't have a choice. Martial law had put a massive squeeze on their operations. Loss rates were higher than ever, and his entire operation was threatening to become unprofitable and fall apart. He would never allow that to happen, not while he still retained his core of professionals. The part-timers came and went, but those guys, Baku, Slip, Chinsen, and the others, were the real meat of the outfit. They weren't just in it for the money, or so he liked to think.

On the other hand, since every ship was now routinely searched before entering the harbor, the price of a smuggled pound had skyrocketed. There were yuans to be made, if you knew where to look and who to ask.

The black suited drivers didn't stay to chat. A seemingly inadequate sack of gold exchanged hands and that was it; they were off into the night once more. Tycho ordered the swabbies to unload the crates. A smorgasbord of killing instruments tumbled out and onto the cold concrete.

High explosives, incendiary jelly, wires, timers, shock gloves, stun sticks, smoke grenades, gas grenades, flares, everything still in its factory packaging. It was almost like they had knocked over a United Forces armory. On second thought, he realized that was probably exactly what had happened. Tycho and the older heads gathered in a semi-circle.

"Okay, everybody listen up. This stuff isn't free. We got it at deep discount in exchange for doing a hit job for Amon's freaks in leather."

"Jobs for product… I don't like this, Tycho. It's not good business."

"Tough shit. We don't have any other option." Tycho said. "I know all of you would love to be back in your old hangouts, slinging massive sacks of blow like it was nothing, but that game is over. A new game is starting. Right now Republic City is deciding by silent vote which of the old players will be around in this new game, and which won't. There's still money for the taking, we just have to get our hands a little dirty to get a shot at it."

He looked at each man, sizing him up, estimating his loyalty.

"Anybody got a problem with that?"

They all shook their heads. Chinsen, the fire bender from the eastern provinces, raised his hand.

"Who is the hit, exactly?"

"General Iroh." Tycho said. "I know what you're thinking. What's he got to do with us, right? Well, his soldiers are the best paid, best fed police force in this city right now, for one thing. They're impossible to bribe. The Equalists want him dead for their own reasons, but so do we."

He turned and began walking back towards the massive warehouse doors.

"We'll be back on top of this city before you know it, gents. Just stick with me and I'll do right by you."


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting the ending. Life intervenes at the most inopportune moments. Better late than never, I always say.)

The seats were bad, and the décor wasn't much to look at, but the food made up for it. It was a fancy place downtown, just off the main drag, or at least it had been before the bombs had ripped half of it apart. Boischelle, or Boischel, something like that. Asami couldn't remember exactly what the spelling had been, and it was impossible to check now, as the afflicted half had also been the front half, the part with the sign. The menus were gone too, along with half of the tables and chairs. The waiter had written their orders on his palm in charcoal and hurried away to the kitchen. There weren't many items left available anyway, what with rationing.

There were dozens of soldiers mixed in with the regular patrons, but none of them were throwing her glances as was the usual. When she was out with Iroh, it seemed that there was an invisible bubble around her. Cat-calls and wolf-whistles dried up, and even the typical covetous looks seemed to decrease in frequency.

He was sitting across from her, swirling the remnants of the second course around his plate with one of the strange, five-tined forks they had been provided. She had just finished asking him if he had heard from his family at all, and he had got that same look on his face, the one she saw late at night when she turned the light on to go to the bathroom. It looked like he was trying to bore a hole through the plate with his eyes.

"I got a letter two days ago. Everyone at home is fine, nothing has changed at the palace. They didn't ask me about the revolution that was just put down, they didn't even ask me how I was. My nephews are learning to firebend, apparently, and they want to join the army just like their old uncle."

Iroh speared a meatball bitterly but didn't seem to have any intention of transferring it to his mouth.

"Well, that's good news... right?" Asami asked, somewhat confused.

Iroh took a look around before replying.

"The Fire Nation needs more than soldiers. It needs tradesmen, and cooks and carpenters. The great war has been over for a century, and yet the army is larger than ever. The fire lord and her sages are taking us down a path we have walked before."

"But there were Fire Nation soldiers in the army that took back Republic City, who says they can't be a force for good?"

"A soldier has one purpose: to destroy the enemy. Any good that comes out of that is coincidental. I never wanted that for my nephews, even if it was tradition once. They deserve to grow up first, and find out whether the life of a soldier is what they really want."

The conversation was interrupted by a second waiter. Asami was a bit taken aback by his appearance. His head was entirely bald, except for a very ugly scar running across his crown. Faded tattoos peeked out of his shirt sleeves. He placed a brown paper package on the table between them.

"Excuse me sir, this just arrived for you at the front door."

Iroh glanced over at it, but Asami only had eyes for the waiter that was now walking the other direction at a brisk clip. Something was sticking in her brain. It was rather like the feeling of turning a page of a page, and pinching two by accident. Her mind could tell something was wrong, but her brain was still sorting it out. Above the ambient hum of conversation, she could hear a very faint tapping. Iroh ignored the package and seemed to regain some of his appetite. Curious, Asami picked up the package in her hands, examining it. The tapping was louder now, and it seemed to grow the tiniest bit slower with every tap. At that moment, for reasons that were never clear to her, Iroh seemed to hear it too. He looked up from his food, an expression of surprise and horror on his face.

The next few seconds were chaotic in the extreme. Iroh plucked the package from the tablecloth and hurled it away onto the floor. He leaped clear over the low table and pulled Asami down onto the ground, smothering her.

Then there was fire.

* * *

Mako awoke feeling refreshed, for once. He lay sprawled out on the couch, which was where he did his best sleeping these days, for some reason beyond his fathoming. It felt like there were too many memories attached to his old four-poster, and instead of going to sleep he would lie awake remembering the days when his stomach was empty more often than not and their surroundings were much less grand. He had considered just putting the old mattress and frame out by the curb for the garbage men to pick up, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, and the city's waste management was almost nonexistent now anyway.

His legs swung grudgingly out from under the down comforter and he wandered over to the pantry to get something to eat. He started at the sparse interior of each set of cabinets, before parking himself on the counter and sulking. How was it that they had at last come into the money, and there was still nothing to eat around the house?

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a note pasted to the tea kettle that explained why this was so.

_Hey bro, we're kinda out of everything. Me and Pabu are going to pick up_

_ something from the market. Be back in a few hours._

_-Bolin_

Mako's grim expression softened a little bit, imagining Pabu hefting a grocery bag. Not what Bolin had meant, he knew, but he also knew that Bolin put Pabu to work in other ways, like breaking the ice with any pretty girl that caught his eye, which happened to be all of them. He could almost imagine his little brother nonchalantly trying to start a conversation over groceries.

_Oh yes, Pabu loves the greener ones. They keep his coat nice and shiney._

His imaginings were punctured by a scrape of paper on wood as someone slipped an envelope underneath his door. He quickly went over and picked it up, peeking at the keyhole as he did so.

There was no one there.

It had to be them. Nobody else moved that fast or that quietly.

* * *

His boots clacked smartly on the polished linoleum. Bright lights crowded his eyes, and the smell of bleach and disinfectant filled his nostrils. Two United Forces soldiers were at his back, and two more saluted and waved him them into Iroh's hospital room. He was sitting upright, a great swath of bandages visible underneath his shirt. His face was pale, and still flecked with bits of dried blood. He was talking in a low voice with several officers when he entered.

Iroh looked up and smiled, but it was mirthless and cold.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, you'll have to excuse us a moment. I'll let you know when it's safe to come back in."

The officers and escorts filed out of the room, shutting the door behind them with a gentle click.

"Lock it, would you Mako?" Iroh said. "Thank you. Wouldn't want some curious nurse wandering in here."

"I think the two burly men in front of the door would stop them."

Iroh laughed, and this did seem to have some measure of actual mirth in it, faint though it was.

"You'd be surprised. They're very insistent on cleaning and making sure that all my tubes are pumping just the right amount of crap into my veins." He said, gesturing at the numerous intravenous needles lodged in his forearm.

"When I heard what happened. I... I didn't know what to say. I didn't think that kind of thing was possible."

Suddenly, the lines on Iroh's face seemed to deepen and multiply, as though his frown was digging into his very essence. He gestured to a stool sitting next to the hospital bed, and Mako sat. When he looked up, he realized Iroh was giving him an intense stare, which Mako dutifully returned.

"There is literally no limit to the depths they will sink to. We have cornered some truly vicious people, and they are desperate." He said, every word as clear and hard as crystal. "The politicians? The counsel-members? They just don't get it, I can't bring it home to them. I've tried explaining. I've talked until I was blue in the face, and it didn't do a damn bit of good. I cant divert resources to this, I need too many people to haul sacks of rice, to lay bricks, to direct traffic and to keep the peace. So when something _truly evil_ shows its head, my army is sitting on their hands."

Iroh leaned in very close at this, and took a fistful of Mako's coat in his left hand, pulling him in closer as well.

"I saw him. He looked me in the eye before he put the bomb on the table. I would have killed him then and there had I knew, with my bare hands. But I failed. I got complacent, and my men paid the price."

Something about it hardly being his fault meandered out of his brain but died long before it got to his mouth. Iroh released him, and sat back onto his upright headboard. He had been very gentle, but Mako could clearly feel the strength behind that grasp.

"There is going to be a big meeting tomorrow night in the industrial district. The Equalists have found new business partners, and the relationship goes both ways. They were the ones who did this." He said, gesturing at his side. "They think they've been successful in removing me from the picture, and as a result they've let their guard down, just like I did."

Iroh leaned forward with some effort, and tried to stretch his arm around behind him, but the bandages were too thick.

"Reach behind my pillow. Take what you find."

Mako did as he was told and retrieved a tan leather briefcase with a brass clasp.

"You will need to get inside the target building and snatch some documents before my teams can go mop up. It's a large compound, lightly guarded for it's size, but if we send the cavalry in right away they will likely destroy the evidence before we can overwhelm them. The details are all in there. Timing. Location. Signaling. The password is 737. Memorize the steps and then burn the instruction papers thoroughly. Also keep in mind that you will want to get clear of the structure once you give the signal. My boys have two modes: stand down and get wet, and none of them know what you look like or that you're working for me."

Mako turned the small engraved dials until they read 737 and the lock clicked open. He peeked inside the case. There was a flare gun and several rounds, a very slim version of the Equalist's signature shock glove, and an envelope which must have been the instructions. He closed the case with a snap.

"Anything else?"

Iroh shook his head.

"This has gone too far, Mako. It has to end, here and now. If we don't crush these people we will never have peace, not even for a moment. We will spend every living hour in fear."

"I understand."

* * *

Korra was bored out of her skull. The speeches had been devoid of substance, mostly patting the council on the back as well as other politicians and industrialist types, and now the after party was turning out to be truly mind-numbing in a manner which no amount of wine could solve.

She had partaken of two glasses, and the third only after careful consideration. It had been too many. She was now out of the realm of comfortably buzzed and well on her way towards the pitching and rolling that characterized most of her previous interactions with alcohol. Mako was over at the refreshments table, talking to a young man in uniform. Or at least, the man was talking to him. A long stream of sentences, uninterrupted, to which Mako was nodding occasionally. She had dragged him here on the condition that he could leave any time he wanted to after the main event was over. She wished she could know what they were saying. The day that she had listened to him and Iroh at the keyhole she had not heard hardly anything, but what she did was enough to make her suspicious and angry. What was Mako doing that he could not share with her?

Something about the young man was awfully familiar too. His hair was the same shade of red as the steamed lobster tails bedecking the tables. The other day she had rounded the corner to his old loft above the arena and found what she know almost certainly knew to be that same man in plain clothes, slipping an envelope underneath the door. He had regarded her with surprise, as though caught red-handed, and walked away without a word. She had resisted the temptation to open the letter.

Her somewhat sluggish mind drifted back to what her eyes were actually looking at: an elderly statesman who looked equally drunk if not more so and was prattling on about his personal life, oblivious to the fact that she had stopped nodding and smiling politely around the time he divorced his third wife. The pattern was already becoming obvious.

Again she was distracted. Mako had taken something small from the young man and they had both walked in opposite directions, as if on queue. Mako glanced around once, and turned down one of the halls which lead away from the ornate common room.

"Please excuse me," she said to the old bureaucrat. "I believe my friend wants to introduce me to someone."

* * *

Mako's boots made almost no noise as they stepped over the cobblestones. Outwardly, his demeanor was relaxed, his gate an amiable lope, but as soon as the two policemen had passed him he hunched over a bit and walked faster, keeping it heel to toe. His hand dipped into his right pocket and put the shock glove back on. The sky was cloudy, threatening rain at any moment. Now and again he could feel a solitary droplet smack into his head.

Some part of him had missed these streets, had missed stalking them late at night with ill intent. It was an echo of another life, one he had felt more comfortable in. Not that he would go back if he could, things were better now, but they were also different. Sometimes it felt like they put more security on his girlfriend than they did on the council. He didn't mind, though, he had been consumed with worry for Korra's safety after the revolution was put down, and the extra inconveniences and hassles were worth the peace of mind.

_Peace of mind, _he thought, wistfully. _It's getting harder and harder to come by these days._

He had been struck by how General Iroh had addressed him in the hospital. It was almost as though he had come alive and risen forward out of his shell to talk to Mako as himself, not a superior officer.

Mako had his woolen greatcoat on and a small bag was slung over his shoulder. The unfastened end of his red scarf fluttered in the chilly breeze that was blowing off the ocean. One by one, the streetlights started to flicker on. As he walked down the avenue, his surroundings grew more and more industrialized. Waste incinerators, factory fronts, and long warehouses with rusted sliding doors stretching back into the unyielding blackness. It was raining now, a cold, insistent drizzle that dampened his collar. A fog was coming in from the ocean. It was unusual for this weather and temperature, in fact he could say with confidence that he had never seen it like this before in all his years of living in Republic City.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned around.

He could have sworn he had heard something. The night stared back at him tauntingly. The seconds ticked past as he waited for the source of the noise to reveal itself, but none did. His feet continued walking, but now he was listening more intently. His instincts were good; they had never lied to him. Those same instincts had kept him and Bolin alive during the lean years, and he would never again make the mistake of ignoring them.

Still, he couldn't afford to keep jumping at shadows all night, so he continued, checking his watch as he went. The industrial district had been built up over a century, building upon building like layers of sediment collecting on the ocean floor. Here and there fossils could be seen, sticking up out of the earth like jagged shards of bone. An aluminum foundry that overlooked his target, long since reduced to rubble by the hammers and wrecking balls, remained untouched by cleanup crews. Perhaps the project had run out of funds. Perhaps the revolution had interfered. Perhaps they had simply forgotten about it. A gleam of flickering light was coming from one of the portions of it still standing.

There was a lookout posted inside the shattered remains. Mako could tell this by his appearance, and by the way he didn't seem to be waiting for anything, just… waiting. It also meant they were amateurs: no lookout worth his salt would be dumb enough to light a fire, but that is exactly what he saw. As Mako drew closer he could see that the man was seated on a metal folding chair on a patch of floor that was still standing. In the center of the building the levels above had collapsed into the basement, creating a pit full of concrete and rebar. He vaulted over the wall and approached slowly.

He could feel the rainwater against his bare skin as his hands snaked around the man's face and covered his mouth while the other pressed the shock glove hard into his sternum. There was a jolt, and the lookout collapsed sideways, nearly dragging Mako with him. Mako eased the limp body down and dragged him into the corner, propping him up to look like he had gone to sleep. When he turned around, his adrenaline spiked and he nearly lost his composure.

A man was walking up the ramp created by the rubble towards where his friend should have been pulling watch. He could hear him call out, but it was raining harder now, well on its way to pouring, and the words attached to the man's steaming breath were snatched away. It was just as well. Mako lept forward and applied the same treatment to the other lookout, catching him before his unconscious body tumbled over the edge and was dashed on the jagged piles below. He laid the man over by his partner, and after a moment's thought, decided to leave the fire burning. Putting it out would arouse more attention.

"You owe me one, buddy." He muttered.

As he approached the outer wall of the industrial complex, he felt his heartbeat increase. He tried not to let the excitement make him giddy. Just as the letter had instructed, there was a tear in the bottom third of the chain link fence. At a casual glance it looked connected, but it curled back slightly, and he squeezed under it. Similarly, a small hole had been dug underneath the solid concrete wall that surrounded the compound. His feet splashed through the muddy puddle at the bottom of it, and he nearly bruised his head ducking underneath the masonry.

He emerged behind a cluster of wooden crates. They had sat there a long time. The rust from the nails had leeched dark red streaks into the sides of the boxes. Somewhere nearby he could hear a transformer humming. There were at least five guards patrolling the outer wall that he could see. Heavy equipment was strewn throughout the yard, some of it under tarps. He moved silently down the row of crates until he reached the end. He waited for the guard closest to turn away, and then dashed along to the next row, taking care to walk heel to toe.

The last bit of open ground was the trickiest. Up on the catwalk the guard turned and paced, turned and paced. When the man was at the apex of his patrol, Mako made for the warehouse door, only to find that it was locked. He whipped around, putting his back flat against it. He had five, maybe six seconds before the man turned around and saw him clearly silhouetted in the floodlights. Casting around for some alternate entry point, his eyes fixed upon a balcony one floor above. Using a box next to the door as a stepping point, he leapt up, caught the lower railing with his gloved hands and clambered up onto it.

The door up here was unlocked, and Mako slipped inside. The noise of the rain died away immediately, to be replaced by the regular thud of some distant machinery and… voices. Talking. He was in a supply room of some kind, and there was only one other door. Through the crack he could see a pair of boots standing there, casting a tell-tale shadow. Soon enough the talking ceased and he heard footsteps retreating down a corridor. Then Mako made his first mistake.

He opened the door.

The man that was still standing on the other side had his back to him, but at the sudden draft he turned. Before his look of surprise had a chance to translate into shouting, Mako grabbed him by the collar and hurled him bodily into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. The man fell to his knees and Mako kicked him savagely behind the joint, hobbling him. The next kick connected with his skull, knocking the man unconscious.

Just as he was catching his breath, the door swung open again and another man entered.

"Lee, what the hell was that- hey, stop!"

This one was better prepared than the last. He pulled a knife from his belt and swung at Mako. Mako retreated again and again, until at last he ducked and the man's wild swing caused the knife to slam into the wall, throwing him off balance. Mako placed his shock glove on the knife handle and triggered the charge, sending several thousand volts coursing up the man's arm. He collapsed with a groan. If he had stopped to examine the sleeping bodies he would have realized that they were not wearing the typical Equalist garb, but to his adrenaline soaked brain it hardly mattered who they were.

Orders were orders.

He fled out into the corridor, shutting the door more quietly behind him. He passed down into a main hallway which had doors on either side all the way down. The walls were plastered with fading anti-bender propaganda. Distracted by the lurid depictions of his own kind oppressing the common folk, he didn't notice a door at the far end open. The voices alerted him, though, and he just managed to duck into the door closest to him before he was spotted.

"I understand that they're not in this for the money, but we are, and if we don't get paid, they won't get their product. It's really that simple. Now if you can't convince them of this, then maybe I need to find a new spokesman, eh?"

"That won't be necessary sir, I've already relayed your concern to Amon's successor and she-"

The voices grew louder as they passed his room, and then quieter as they moved farther away and turned down the hallway he had just vacated. He was in a small office that looked like it hadn't been used in a decade. A layer of dust coated everything, including the papers on the desk, manifests which referenced ships that had been hauled off for scrap years ago. This wasn't the room he was looking for. He tried to remember the map that Iroh had given him, but it was all running together in his head.

He opened the door and tentatively looked left, then right. Seeing nobody, he proceeded further down the hall and into the office that the two men had just left. He could tell it was this one by the pattern of dirt on the floor, and by the fact that the door had been left ajar. This one was clearly in use. He rifled through the drawers. Yes, this was what he was looking for. These manifests were fresh, some even still had the typewriter smell; iron gall ink and fresh parchment. He took everything, not bothering to discriminate between vital information and idle paperwork. There was no time. If they came back and noticed that the door was now closed, the game would be up.

His job done, he exited the office, just in time to hear a shout as the bodies of his earlier escapade were discovered.

He turned and ran the other direction, towards the clanking noise. The factory floor would be his only way out now.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Mako, someone was watching him as he barreled out of the office like a freight train at full steam. She had been watching him since he left the party, trailing along dirty side streets and skirting around deep puddles, lest her quarry hear her. She was sitting on one of the massive iron girders that held up the warehouse roof, and from this vantage point she had a bird's eye view of the chaos that followed.

The mech dropped its load of girders with a deafening clang and swung around to face the threat. The mechanics who had been watching it go through its paces scattered, and through the massive hanger doors that were opening wider and wider spilled a whole group of men.

"There he is!"

"Kill him!"

Mako dove over a cluster of fuel barrels and came up with a might backhand swing, sending out a horizontal wave of flame whose fingers glanced off the mech's legs and caused the others to crouch down for cover.

The mech pilot bunched his legs and leaped over a line of crates, nicking the last one with the spur of his machine's bulky foot pad. There was a crunching noise and it split open, spilling propane tanks left and right. One of them smacked the floor hard enough to rupture its valve, and a cloud of gas rushed into the chilly air. Mako apparently did not notice this in time, as he reemerged from his hiding place, slipped between the mech's legs and threw another jet of flame directly at his enemies. The idle gas flared up immediately, the heat and intensity causing everyone momentary blindness. The canister slithered along the floor, hissing and spitting as it was carried aloft on a jet of flame. Its wild flailing knocked several of the men clear off of their feet before smashing into the fuel barrels. A sticky black goop spilled onto the floor and ignited immediately.

Mako had something in his hand, and he pointed it through the hanger doors towards the night sky and pulled the trigger. A brilliantly red starburst leaped from his hand and illuminated the entire courtyard beyond, just in time to see another group of guards move through the gap. They closed in on Mako in seconds. The mech stepped out of the way of the expanding puddle of fire, whose expansion was curbed by the rainwater flowing in from the opened doors. In all the excitement, nobody seemed to notice that some of this water was running up the walls and collecting around one particular part of the roof, seemingly in violation of the laws of physics.

Mako tried to isolate them and take them on one at a time with fire and lightning, but they came it him from all sides. Korra gasped as a rock smashed cruelly against the side of his head, and he dropped to the floor. She wanted to scream, to call out, to distract them somehow, but the smoke and heat from the fire was choking her. She had never imagined it would be like this when she had first started following him. How could she have not have known Iroh was using him like this? Wasn't it obvious? It didn't matter. If she didn't act now, Mako would die.

She didn't have time for a deep breath. Instead, she simply let go, and the water followed her.

* * *

Chinsen wiped blood away from his forehead. In the confusion he had managed to sustain a nasty cut, probably a splinter from the crate that the mech shattered. It didn't faze him one bit. His prey was in sight, and grossly outnumbered, just the way he liked it. Chinsen watched him grapple with three assailants, shocking one and dissipating the others fire with his own wall of flame, but he couldn't be everywhere, not even close. Before he knew what had hit him, a piece of the floor that an earthbender had scooped out came whistling out of the darkness and directly into his temple. He went down like a sack of bricks.

For reasons unknown to him, Chinsen glanced over his shoulder as he moved forward with the rest of the group to finish the job, and so was granted a perfect view of what happened next, unlike his unfortunate comrades, who never saw it coming.

A slender figure scrambled, monkey-like, down a beam, and dropped. Her eyes were glowing with an eerie blue light that chilled him to the very bone. As she fell, she twisted her back like a cat so that her hands and feet were oriented towards the ground. A wave of water closely followed her meteoric descent. When she made contact with the concrete a moment a moment later it deformed downwards, cracking along its entire surface. The water expanded outward in all directions, sweeping up every loose item and propelling it outwards. The fire went out almost instantly. Chinsen was dragged off his feet and slammed into the door, which itself was bent outwards and carried a short distance away before falling face-down on the concrete.

He gagged and coughed, spitting up oily, contaminated water and rolling over onto his back. The mech driver picked himself up much faster, but it was no use. She was glowing much brighter now, the color mixing with the red of the flare as it floated back down to earth. Two great scything hoops of water sprung outwards, severing the mech's arms at the elbow, and spinning it around. Another torrent engulfed the engine mounted on the back of the machine and froze solid. The motor whined and kicked, tearing itself to pieces internally and trapping the operator within it.

The factory was in ruins. It's roof had been bent rent roughly down the middle and both sides had collapsed outwards. An explosion off to his right distracted him momentarily. A large plume of dirt settled almost immediately, and United Forces MPs poured through the newly-made gap in the compound perimeter.

The last thing Chinsen saw before being thrown to the ground a second time was the Avatar scooping up a motionless body and clearing the wall in one bound.

* * *

It was very early in the morning. The temple lights were all out, save for the one in the kitchen. Mako was conscious now, but just barely. Enough to keep her from having to drag him, but apparently not enough to speak. At the moment, that was fine. There would be time for questions later.

Pema met her out on the veranda, slipping an arm around Mako's other side and helping him up the steps. Tenzin looked up from the table as they entered. He looked tired and harried.

"Korra, you have a lot of explaining to do!"

"Over here, on the table. Gently now." Pema said as they coaxed the half awake Mako onto the table.

When it was done Pema went over to the cupboard and opened it, retrieving a roll of white gauze. She mopped away the dried blood with a wet cloth and began wrapping his head with the gauze, stretching it tightly on each pass.

Tenzin was not demurred.

"You left the driver waiting at the curb, and when nobody could find you we assumed the worst. You could have been snatched by Equalists, you could be dead! Then what would I have done?!"

Pema placed a firm hand on her husband's shoulder.

"There will be plenty of time for scolding tomorrow, dear. For now they need to rest."

Tenzin looked like he wanted to protest further, but didn't.

"I suppose you are right. But you and I need to have a talk when this is over Korra."

* * *

Something warm was on his face.

Iroh opened his eyes slowly. They had him on new medication, one of the effects of which was perpetual drowsiness. The nurses told him it promoted healing. They had opened the window and through it the warm afternoon sun beamed in. His lower body was still throbbing gently, and when he sat up the pain flared. The breeze felt cold on his clammy skin, but he forced himself to look around and take stock of his surroundings.

A tray of food had been left half eaten on the table by his bed. He had lost his appetite midway through. Something else was sitting on the table. A small brown paper package, tied up with twine. His heart began to race. At that moment the door opened without a knock and a UF officer walked in. He saluted, which Iroh didn't bother to return.

"What is it?"

"Sir, someone who claims to be Mako is trying to reach you by phone."

"Give him this room's extension number then. What is that package doing there?" He said, sharply.

"It arrived this morning." the officer replied.

"Did you search it?"

"All that was inside was a pair of dog-tags and the documents you were waiting for."

"I didn't ask you what was inside, I asked you if you had searched it."

The officer paused for a second or so before replying.

"Yes sir, it was searched."

"Good. That will be all." Iroh said.

When he had gone Iroh stretched out a hand and snatched up the package, grimacing and clutching his bandages as he did so. He unwrapped the small container, and sure enough, it contained a pair of dog tags with Makos name emblazoned on them. Wrapped around them was a sheaf of paper. Upon examination these turned out to be shipping manifests for various parts. Each one of them had the names of suspected terrorists on them. A moment later the phone on the wall next to his bed rang and he picked it up.

"This is Iroh."

"I'm quitting." said the voice on the other end. It sounded hoarse, strained even.

"I can see that. I received your package."

"Good. I was starting to wonder if it had made it through. My decision is final, I've had enough."

Something in Iroh flared that was not pain. How did Mako, barely into adulthood, have the right to give up when it got hard? Had any of his other soldiers been given that choice?

"I am reluctant to let you go. Martial law is still in effect. In theory I could compel you to return to service."

"In theory." Mako replied coolly. "In reality you would simply be putting me into a jail cell, because I would refuse to work for you."

In spite of his mood, Iroh found himself smiling. He found such stubbornness endearing in a strange sort of way. It reminded him of himself.

"Fair enough. I release you. There wasn't any paperwork attached to it in the first place so I doubt anyone will notice."

"We'll keep it our little secret." Mako said.

"Agreed." Iroh replied and hung up.

* * *

The birds in the trees were singing, and Mako was coming around at last. They had laid him down in the guest room, and besides wanting a mysterious package delivered and a private phone call he hadn't spoken more than a dozen words. Korra had sat in a hard wooden chair the whole rest of the night, watching his chest rise and fall gently.

He opened his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position before gingerly probing the bandages around his head.

"Ooh..."

"You took a little tumble." Korra said.

She didn't know whether to be furious or thankful.

"What happened? The last thing I can remember, I was running, and then... nothing."

Korra slid off the chair and came to sit beside him. He scooted over to allow her room, but when he reached for her hand she found an excuse to move it away.

"I followed you. All the way from the party. I thought about going back multiple times, but I didn't. I wanted to know what you were doing. I wanted to know what you were keeping from me." She said. "What's gotten into you Mako?"

"I told you, I was helping Iroh. He needed an outsider, someone who wouldn't attract attention."

"But why? It's not your fight Mako, if it's anyone's business its mine."

"I know, that's why I did it. They're still out there Korra, and they want you, badly. Kill or capture, it doesn't matter. I couldn't rest easy until I was sure it was over with. Living your whole life looking over your shoulder for an assassin isn't a life at all."

"Just promise me," she said, clasping his callused hand and squeezing it, "that whatever we do from now on, we do together."

"Deal." Mako said, squeezing back.

* * *

Korra tried not to look like she was about to commit a terrible crime of passion as she walked brusquely down the hallway. Since she couldn't get a straight explanation out of Mako, and couldn't bear to stay mad at him any longer, she had decided that the brunt of her unhappiness was going to come down on Iroh, as he was most responsible for this. Even now she could feel it building like an avalanche moving downhill. She noticed a pair of guards shooting the breeze, and one more standing directly in front of the door that she wanted to get through. The guard at the door gave her one look, and stood aside. She cut quite a distinctive figure in her water tribe garb, one that was not easy to mistake.

The door shut behind her with a click and she opened her mouth to let loose the avalanche, but stopped when she realized who was standing there. Asami looked at her with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Korra was caught completely off guard. The first words of the tirade died in her throat.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence before Iroh spoke.

"Asami, can you give us a minute? I think Korra has been wanting to have a word with me."

"Sure." Asami said, the mildness of her tone belying the ferocity of her gaze as she left the room.

The look said everything, and it made Korra deeply uncomfortable. _Are you going to take him too? Not satisfied with Mako?_

When the door clicked shut a second time, the words she had been about to blurt out seemed silly. She walked over to stand by his bedside. There were deep bags underneath his eyes, and bandages covered his lower body. He looked like he had aged a great deal in a short span of time. An IV was dripping steadily into his arm.

One two three, drip, one two three, drip. When she finally spoke, the anger was still in her voice.

"Why him?"

Iroh sighed.

"Has he not explained it to you?"

"He didn't need to explain anything, I know what's been going on. You're using Mako to get back at the people who did this."

"And you think that's a bad thing how?"

"Mako is not a soldier, Iroh. Even if he was, the war is supposed to be over!"

"Mako can take care of himself just fine. You of all people know his past, most of his life has been spent getting out of tight scrapes." Iroh said, raising his voice. "Since when does war obey my word? Do you really think a war like this ends when its 'supposed to'?"

Korra crossed her arms.

"I did, once. When war was just stories in books. Now, though, I think that war ends when people like you decide its over, and not a moment before. I also think you don't care who you hurt along the way."

She knew instantly that this had been a step too far. Iroh's fingers clenched involuntarily against the bedspread, but his expression hardly changed at all. For a single terrifying moment she thought he would leap out of the bed and engulf her in fire, but he seemed to take a deep breath and calm himself.

"There will come a time in your life when you will be forced to make choices more difficult than you can possibly imagine," he said. "Life and death choices. You are the Avatar, and the world has still not found peace with itself. It needs someone that can set aside their personal life and shoulder a burden when necessary. Even if it means you may never see the people you love again. Mako understood that. Every man in this army understands that. If the lowliest private in my army can make that choice, how can the Avatar herself ignore it?"

Korra wanted to shout back that this was completely different, but the memory of what she had said to Saikan only a week ago drifted back to her: "_The __**world's **__problems are my problems." _She had spoken those words proudly, almost airily, as though through some act of will she had taken on this mantel. Shame burned in her cheeks.

She turned and left without a word. Iroh seemed to understand what was going through her head and didn't try to stop her, which made her hate him even more. She had had the whole conversation planned out in her head, and now in retrospect those expectations seemed childish. How could she have honestly expected to cow someone like Iroh with sheer bull-headedness? Out of the corner of her moist eye, she could see that Asami was again watching her, but her expression had softened considerably. That was the last straw. She could take scorn and embarrassment, but pity... the Avatar didn't need pity.

As soon as she got outside the hospital she sprinted to where Naga was lying with her head in her paws and leapt on her back.

"Come on girl, lets get out of here." she said, trying not to let her voice crack.

She didn't need to specify a destination. Naga knew the ways back to the Air Temple docks by heart now. The sun was high and bright, and a nearly full moon was already hanging in the sky like a silver medallion, outshone by its brighter sister. A single wisp of cloud hurried across the sky, as though eager to get wherever it was going. Perhaps to join its kin out at sea. Perhaps to drift farther inland and rain down on some Earth Kingdom province.

Something triggered a memory within her, a recollection of one of the few times she had asked Katara about Aang. She had asked, somewhat wistfully, if Aang had been forced to give up all his worldly possessions as well. They had gotten into a conversation about this and that, adventures past, chakras cleared and ancient history. Something Katara had said had stuck in her mind, and now it broke free, drifting across the surface of her idle mind.

"The seventh and final step to becoming a fully realized avatar is to let go of this world. You must relinquish all that you care for. Aang had to do it when he was twelve years old. Only then did he possess the courage to do what was necessary."

"Everything? Even you?" She had asked, and Katara had nodded solemnly.

"At first he refused it as impossible. But in time, he did what you must also do. And only when it was done was he able to do what the world asked of him."

She tried to imagine letting go of Mako. She tried to imagine actually loosing him. A tear that had been threatening to break free all the while finally did so, sliding down her cheek before it dropped off her face entirely and was absorbed by Naga's shaggy fur. In that moment she realized how fast Aang had been forced to grow up. He did something at the age of twelve that she was now struggling with at seventeen.

It made her realize that despite how far she had come, there was still a long way left to go.

Naga cleared the alleyway and sprinted out onto the docks, scattering gulls and longshoremen alike. At the end of the pier, a White Lotus guard jerked awake and hurriedly began untying the ropes to the boat that would take them to the other side.

"Take your time." Korra said, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "I'm in no hurry."

(A/N: From the earth we come, and to the earth we shall return. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Thank you for reading. Don't forget to provide your valued opinions.)


	5. Chapter 5 (The End)

**(A/N: Okay, okay, one more. Now I really have to end it here. I've got other ATLA and LoK related projects to get to, and finals start a week from now. I hope you find this a suitable place to conclude.)**

The IV was out when he awoke. Its cart had been rolled back behind the bed. The window was open, but there was no noise coming through it, no bustle on the sidewalks. He forced himself to sit up, and then, more slowly, to orient himself sideways, so that he could get up. Each leg came around slowly, stiffly, and bent at the knee to make contact with the ground. There was pain, but the deep stabbing kind that made him sweat and clench at the blankets was gone.

He sat there for a long while, looking up out of the window at the overcast skies and rubbing circulation into each leg with his hands. When he felt he had the strength, he tried to stand.

"Ughh…"

It was a great effort, but he managed it for a few seconds unaided before he was forced to take his seat again. After so long in the same position, they felt like hunks of living lead, but feeling was coming back, a bit at a time. The next time around, he was strong enough to take a step, and then another one. He grasped on to the edge of the windowsill and rocked from side to side gently, letting the blood flow freely once more.

He wasn't feeling good.

He hadn't felt good for days, just a little less horrible each day which was the thing that had kept him sane and allowed him to sleep, knowing that the morning would bring less pain. The pain had largely gone, but he was still feeling sick from whatever they had pumped him full of. He shivered, and the floor pitched under him momentarily like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship.

The door behind him opened and shut. He didn't bother to look around until he heard the voice.

"Is now a good time?"

Colonel Yang stood on the threshold, a bundle of documents in his arms. The lines in his face had deepened since they'd last met, but that boyish charm and cheeky spirit still radiated from him. Iroh took a measure of comfort from his presence, and it seemed enough to lift him out of the doldrums somewhat, if not to banish his queasiness.

"It's always a good time for old friends. What are you doing here? I though they had you on assignment?"

"They do. I'm assisting the UF withdrawal and the transition to civilian law enforcement."

"They haven't gotten you to join this wretched outfit, have they?"

Yang laughed, setting the papers down and selecting one.

"Oh no, I'd rather lead a squad under the banner of the Fire Nation than a whole battalion of United Republic troops, no offense to you."

"None taken. Sometimes I wish I hadn't given in to my mother's will and transferred to United Forces. I have no use for symbolic gestures, and I miss the mother country terribly."

"What are you going to do? She's the Fire Lord." Yang said.

Iroh rolled his eyes.

"That's what I said. Anyway, what have you got for me?"

Yang unrolled what turned out to be a map of the city, except this map was divided in colored zones, each one seemingly eating away at one another.

"Most of the gangs have had dealings with the Equalists, but only the Triple Threat Triads have a real business relationship. They were the ones who planted that bomb. By my estimate, there are a handful of cells that have managed to hang on. They are in regular contact, but they're isolated and hopelessly paranoid. They won't be able to do much besides minor sabotage in the near future."

"You never know. If they've hung on this long they have to be good."

"Yeah, or stupid." Yang said. "We have to decide how much of this intelligence to turn over to Saikhan and the metalbenders. Things like this, the map of turf that each gang claims; I think we can hand over without much trouble, but some of the after action reports are…"

"…less than legal." Iroh finished. He had no regrets, and was going to be damn sure that no one made him regret anything either. "You should have seen some of the things I had to order off the record."

Yang waved his hand dismissively.

"Well, no need to fill me in, I'm not feeling particularly curious."

"Tell you what; give them everything except the arrest reports from the last two weeks."

"Can do, but what about the prisoner totals?"

Iroh shook his head, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean once they go over the reports and compare the number of people arrested on paper to the number of people in prison, they're going to find they have several extras."

"So they have a few extras. Police-work is messy. Sometimes paperwork is filled out incorrectly."

Yang cast him a sidelong glance.

"I mean… if that's the strategy you want to go with; just hope they don't notice…"

"I don't think the beurocracy will look twice. Besides, they're hardly going to launch an investigation into why they have MORE dangerous criminals in custody than they expected."

"We'll see, I guess. I'll inform the Intel Wing and catch up with you on the last details before you ship out. "

Iroh nodded absentmindedly. He was staring at the map of gang territory, that seedy underbelly that had birthed a violent revolution the likes of which hadn't been seen for centuries.

"Amazing that they would help the Equalists, who want to get rid of all of them."

"It just goes to show you that the "support your neighborhood" line they spout is crap. They're in it for money, one hundred percent. Everything else comes second."

"Maybe I'm just being an old grouch, but in my day, even the villains stood for something. Now the heroes are the ones who are vilified, and the villains don't stand for anything."

Yang shrugged.

"Maybe you're just starting to see the world as it is."

Iroh turned and stared out the window at the listless, cloudy day.

"I sure hope not, Yang. I sure hope not."

At that moment Asami entered, a male doctor in tow. The man seemed amazed to see Iroh out of bed. Asami threw her arms around him without hesitation. He winced, but found himself smiling through the pain.

"You're awake!"

"Whoa, easy there babe, I'm still a bit unsteady."

"I thought he would never walk again! -At least, not without a cane." The doctor remarked, examining his bandages.

Over Asami's shoulder Iroh saw Yang frantically snatching up the sensitive documents. They shared one last, private nod, and exited.

"If you don't mind terribly, I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course. Let me go fill out some release paperwork and we can send you on your way."

The doctor left the room, leaving him and Asami to share a quiet moment. She took a step back, and they both sat down on the bed. Iroh hadn't realized how tiring the simple act of standing was now.

"Do you really have to leave?"

His expression darkened somewhat. He had seen this conversation coming.

"Yes, I do. I'm at the mercy of my deployment."

She nodded and laid her head on his shoulder. He could tell she was trying to hide her disappointment, trying to be understanding. He appreciated it more than he would ever be able to explain to her.

"I had a lot of time to think, lying in that bed." Iroh said, running a finger through her dark hair. "My enlistment is up in three weeks. I was thinking, maybe it's time to settle down a bit."

She looked up at him and smiled. It was a wonderful smile, unforced and genuine, full of hope. The kiss was sweet, and it seemed to pull all the pain out of his body and dispel it in an instant.

Tomorrow was another day, but for the moment, he had found heaven.

* * *

Grey skies today, but signs of change. A little boat floated across the chop. In it sat a little raven haired boy and his guitar. At his feet were two buckets, one full of bait, and the other empty, awaiting a catch from one of the three lines that were cast in the water. The foam spit little droplets on his fingers as he played for an audience of one. His voice was high and lilting, just as his father had taught him.

Take heed, my friend-

This is the end.

Hold your breath and count to ten.

Feel the earth move, and then-

All is silent once again.

The end it calls, the curtain falls, but not in Republic City.

Lights and noise, our special toys, we gave up slumber long ago.

Some have suffered, and some have prospered, but amid the warring ways-

A light shines down, on this old town, the return… of quiet days.

**[The End]**


End file.
